


Shall We Dance

by ReneeoftheStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, F/M, House Organa, gala - Freeform, let them all BE HAPPY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 06:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12929058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: After receiving intelligence that an assassination may take place at House Organa's Equinox Gala, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker attend the lavish event with Duchess Satine and Padmé Amidala. While dressy attire and dancing are not generally in a Jedi's repertoire, they take it in stride.





	Shall We Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr blog Finish-the-clone-wars' writing Wednesday: Dressed to the Nines
> 
> Inspired by tumblr user Elisa's drawing "The Jedi and the Senator - Dancing" (http://lisuli79.tumblr.com/post/160481068734)

Anakin straightened his belt, wider than he was used to and far more ornate. Silver strands of thread wove a pattern that crisscrossed around his waist, cinching the fabric of his new robes. He found it surprisingly bracing, a comfortable pressure that made him feel centered. The one drawback was its strictly decorative function; he’d had to rig up a small clip in order to affix his lightsaber to it.

The robes felt strange on him too. Well, they weren’t exactly robes, but rather a black jerkin over a matching fitted tunic. Used to having loose fabric in his normal garb, the narrow sleeves that closed around wrists reminded him vaguely of the cloth his mother used to wrap around his forearms to prevent sand getting up his sleeves. The pants were equally dark and tapered, but at least they didn’t restrict his movement. His boots rose to his knees, made of a shiny black material that fit the arch of his foot just right.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, watching various beings pass by him. Delegates from several influential worlds had been invited to a gala hosted by House Organa of Aldaraan in celebration of the Equinox. The Royal Palace’s sweeping buttresses and curving staircases were wreathed in flowers, twinkling lights illuminating the domed ceilings. Combined with the snow-capped mountains visible out of every window, it was easily the most beautiful structure Anakin had ever seen. He imagined that Shmi would have cried with awe at the sight of it.

He frowned and shifted his weight as he stood in the foyer. Why was he dwelling on his mother? _It’s because I wanted her to have everything. She never knew that something as simple as a building could be beautiful._ A lump rose in his throat and he shook the icy memory off. There was no time for that right now.

Beside him, Obi-Wan glanced over. “You seem distracted.”

“Just wondering when our dates will show up,” Anakin deadpanned. It earned him a glare from his former master, but it was worth it. Obi-Wan believed that Anakin and Senator Amidala were simply friends, and as such, Anakin normally took pains to maintain that façade. But after confirming that Obi-Wan had been emotionally involved with the Duchess of Mandalore years ago, Anakin felt confident that he could sneak in a few jabs without raising suspicion.

Obi-Wan’s attire was nearly identical to Anakin’s. The only differences between the two were the former’s high-collared jerkin and the silver fabric. Anakin had rarely seen his master in anything other than his standard robes, and couldn’t help but feel that the sight was a strange, out-of-place one.

“Do not take this endeavor lightly, Anakin,” Obi-Wan warned. “Have you sensed anything?”

“Nothing malicious. Nothing yet.”

“Neither have I,” Obi-Wan mused. “That troubles me.”

“Senator Organa’s intel may have been mistaken. It would be a bold move to attempt to assassinate anyone in a place with this much security,” Anakin pointed out.

Obi-Wan kept his voice low, so as not to be overheard by the guests milling about and conversing. “A bold move, yes. But these are some of the most outspoken public figures in the Republic. Take Senator Lethaa Daal.” He flashed a smile in the direction of the Togruta senator and her wife as they passed. The women returned the smile and made their way arm-in-arm into the grand hall. “She has been very scornful regarding the Senate’s tendency to dedicate resources to systems that are strategic to military movements, as opposed to who needs it most. And Minister Vognamn,” he continued, nodding to a haughty-looking Duros that swept past them, “has been most vocal in favor of attacking Separatist home worlds, as retribution for turning their backs on the Republic.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed. “So are we trying to prevent an assassination enacted by the Separatists, or from within the Republic itself?”

His former master shrugged. “Does it make a difference?”

“Yes.”

“If lives are threatened, we will protect them.” He cut off abruptly, turning to face the main door. Anakin followed his gaze and felt his stomach flip.

Two women approached them, and while Anakin registered that Duchess Satine Kryze looked beautiful in a green dress, he couldn’t take his eyes off Padmé Amidala.

Used to seeing her in grand senatorial dresses, he knew that she had quite a fine wardrobe. This was one gown he’d never seen before, and he couldn’t help but admire how elegant she looked. Blue-white layers of some delicate material had been stitched together and draped around her, tight around her torso and flaring out at her hips, shimmering as waves of cloth trailed behind her. Shoulders bare, translucent sleeves extended from the bodice and wrapped around her arms, loose around her wrists.

Her long dark hair was piled atop her head, held by a circular blue hairpiece with red inlaid stones, spilling down her shoulders in loose ringlets. She smiled as she drew near, and that small upturn of her lips transformed her from regale senator to his radiant wife.

 _My wife, my wife._ The words still made him unbearably happy, and he bowed low to hide his grin as the women came to a stop before them.

“Duchess, Senator,” Obi-Wan greeted, also bowing. Anakin looked over in time to see a slight flush in his cheeks.

“Master Kenobi. Master Skywalker.” The Duchess spoke for the pair of them. “I trust Queen Breha’s gala has exceeded your expectations?”

“Precious few other events can compare,” Obi-Wan assured her, extending his arm for her to take. “Shall we?”

With a curt nod, the Duchess draped her arm around his and let him escort her into the ballroom. Anakin turned back to Padmé, and with a flourish, held out his ungloved hand. “Senator?”

His wife took it and together, they followed the older couple. Anakin squeezed Padmé’s hand and felt her return the pressure, and he was glad for it. He was appreciative that she was willing to walk on his left side, so he could hold her hand with his remaining real one. Feeling her warm, soft hand in his grounded him. His mechanical arm did not have the tactile input he wanted, but he tweaked it whenever he had the chance, hoping to increase its sensitivity.

“Anything?” Padmé asked quietly, smiling at Senator Chuchi across the way. The ballroom’s massive pillars were festooned with lavish tapestries, light streaming in through the immense stained glass that made up two of the six walls, casting colors of every sort onto the tiled floor. As they walked, a column of purple light fell across his wife’s dress, the color seeming to catch in the fabric and ripple.   

“Not yet,” Anakin answered.

“Satine and I have just spoken with Bail. His captain of the guard is recommending concentrating forces on the southern end of the palace. Apparently they’ve had issues before of thieves creeping in through the supply ports there.”

“We already have men stationed there,” Anakin said dismissively. “No, we’ll stick to the plan.”

“I agree, and so does Bail.” She fell silent as they drew up alongside the Duchess and Obi-Wan.

“Dinner won’t be for another hour or so,” Obi-Wan said once they’d clustered up. “After the courses are served, mingling is highly encouraged, and will be followed by speeches. Senator Organa has said that while he tries to keep it controlled, the speeches often devolve into debate. With tensions about the war running so high, there’s a very real chance it might get out of hand.”

The Duchess’s eyes narrowed. “Well then, Master Kenobi, are you here to prevent an assassination, or to referee a gaggle of well-dressed temper-tantrums?”

“It is my hope that neither will be necessary, Duchess. We are here as a precaution.”

“And as such, we should do our best not to stand around looking so serious.” Anakin didn’t know quite what came over him, but he’d heard the growing strains of a chamber orchestra, and was seized with a need to pull his wife away. “If we appear worried, it’ll only antagonize the other guests. We should attempt to blend in and appear to enjoy the evening.” He turned to Padmé, whose eyebrows crinkled questioningly. “Would you care for a dance, Senator?”

A surprised smile lit up her face. “I would be honored, Master Jedi.”

Anakin dare not risk a glance back at Obi-Wan as he led Padmé to the center of the room. Other couples were already dancing, swaying to the music that rapidly filled the air. He steadied the senator a respectful distance from him, placed a hand on her waist, and began moving in time to the song.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Padmé admitted, silver-swirled sandals flashing as she matched his footwork.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“So it seems.”

Anakin decided not to mention that he’d had R2 download recordings of a few basic dances. He’d spent the last four nights mimicking the projections, all while listening to C-3P0’s running commentary and suggestions.

Padmé’s dress shimmered as she moved, and when he twirled her around it fluttered out like the wings of some magnificent bird. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“You know, I always figured our first time dancing together would be a bit more... celebratory.”

A pained look crossed her face. “Anakin…”

“I just want to hold you close. I want us to be able to dance like there’s no one else in the galaxy. I just want to kiss you and make everyone see how beautiful you are. But I can’t,” he reminded himself bitterly, “Why do we have to stay secret?”

“You know why,” Padmé said gently.

 _Yes, I do. It doesn’t make me any happier. But then, a Jedi’s personal happiness doesn’t matter._ The thought just made him frustrated.

A slower-tempo song started up as more dancers made their way onto the dance floor. Padmé stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and he froze. She took his mechanical arm and positioned it on her back, then moved his other hand onto her waist. She then mirrored the placement.

“This is one of Alderaan’s traditional songs,” she explained. “It’s expected that those dancing do so in close quarters. I’ll teach you.”

So Anakin sank into the music, letting his wife guide him.

 

*                                             *                                             *

 

“They’re not being very subtle,” Satine said as the young Jedi and Senator danced close together.

Obi-Wan turned to her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t. You don’t acknowledge personal relations, even when it throws a robe at you.”

He pretended not to remember his departure from Mandalore as a Padawan, during which Satine had bundled up his robe and hurled it at him before storming off. The memory still left a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. “There is nothing transpiring between them, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“It’s not a suggestion, it’s a mere observation.”

They  _did_ seem to be dancing closer than etiquette called for... Obi-Wan dismissed the thought. “Anakin is a Jedi. He has dedicated his life to the Order. He would not throw it away for anything.”

“Throw it away?” she scoffed. “There are a great many vices that would be a waste to leave the great Jedi Order for. Love is not one of them. You used to believe that.”

His gut clenched momentarily, and he wished his collar was not so high; it seemed to constrict around his throat as he wrestled with whatever emotion arose in him. Shame? Regret? He willed the unsettling feeling away. “That was a long time ago, Satine. We’ve both changed since then.”

“In some ways, perhaps.” She sighed and shook her head, long crystalline earrings swaying. The white gems matched the accents on her headdress, a simple circlet resting atop her blond hair.

The dress, too, was simple compared to the Duchess’s standard attire. Shades of green layered the floor-length skirt and low-necklined bodice, lace sleeves wrapping around her shoulders and down the length of her arms, baring her back and looping around her middle fingers.

She looked lovely, but Obi-Wan didn’t trust himself to say it. He had made his choice all those years ago to remain with the Order instead of staying with her. He couldn’t keep allowing his feelings to control him. He needed to stop bantering with her the way he did – all it ended up doing was confusing their association.

Satine spoke suddenly, catching him off-guard. “You know, Master Skywalker has a point. If Senator Organa’s information was incorrect, then there is every chance nothing of note will happen tonight. It would be a shame to waste the entire evening fretting about things that might not even come to pass.” She turned to Obi-Wan and smiled. It was the smile she seemed to reserve for him, after they’d argued and the tension and frustration fell away from her face. “Shall we dance, Obi? For old times’ sake.”

 _Ah…_ The refusal died on his tongue. Perhaps she was right. He sensed no disturbance in the Force. And he could think of no reason to not spend an evening with an old friend. He extended his hand and she accepted it. They took a step onto the dancefloor –

As a shrill scream rose up from the west corridor.

Guests froze and hands reached for concealed blasters, dancers broke apart, chatter died immediately. Obi-Wan saw Anakin spin Senator Amidala behind him, shielding her. Obi-Wan dropped Satine’s hand and reached for his lightsaber, hurrying towards the sound.  _So much for an uneventful evening,_ he thought wistfully.


End file.
